It is with the most sincere regrets that I write this letter. On Tuesday, August 3, 1999 Angelpassed away. She had been brought into the Animal Medical Clinic for surgery to remove whatwas believed to be kidney stones, and while under the anesthesia, she stopped breathing.

Over the past few weeks it was noticed that sweet Angel was having difficulty in urinating. Atfirst the situation was misdiagnosed as constipation, aggravated by hairballs brought on by theshedding season. When Dr. Harper visited the Park to examine the pups, he believed herproblem stemmed from possible stones. A date was set for surgery early the next week.

As usual with Angel, containing her was an adventure. A slightly new method was tried thistime. The squeeze cage, generously loaned to us by the Tippecanoe Humane Shelter, was placedin the front airlock. Covering the cage to create a den/tunnel effect, was a large blanket. Flanking the sides of the cage, leading to the fence of the airlock, were partial sheets of plywoodto form a funnel. Operating the guillotine door of the cage was intern Lisa Wallis. Outside theenclosure was puppy mother Elisabeth Vaeth holding a rope attached to the airlock gate, ready topull it closed upon Angel's entrance to the airlock. The boys, Basil and Corey, were moved tothe back part of the enclosure and left to watch the circus. Pat Goodmann and myself proceededfor the next 45 minutes to attempt to usher Angel into the airlock and into the cage. Watching allof this were the participants of the August Wolf Behavior Seminar. Finally, when time was justrunning out, Angel was finally convinced to enter the airlock. Elisabeth closed the gate and Lisawas ready to close the cage when the moment came. Another five minutes were spent by Patslowly inching Angel further into the tunnel we had created. At last Angel retreated to the cageand Lisa closed it.

Taking the cage, blanket and all, Angel, Lisa and myself moved to my car and off to the AnimalMedical Clinic. Once settled in the examination room, the technician asked if she could seeAngel. For the first time since laying the blanket over the cage , about an hour and a half earlier,I lifted the blanket. Squished in one end of the cage, with no cage wall to contain her, sat a veryangry and indignant Angel. ALL OF THIS TIME, THERE WAS ONLY THE BLANKETCONTAINING HER! In my haste and nervousness about this whole procedure, I never oncebothered to check to see how the cage was set. A squeeze cage, in case you are not familiar withthe concept, is a cage with a collapsible wall - one that is moved by a series of hinges and braces,in order to restrain an animal that wishes no human contact. In all of the commotion, the cagewas already "squeezed" when Angel entered. Needless to say, there was a moment in the examroom that we all froze, before I covered Angel up again and quickly thought about what to donext. A flat piece of cardboard and a small cat cage were called for. After several minutes ofrotating, dismantling, moving and sheer bumbling about, Angel was transferred to the cat cage,the squeeze cage re-set and Angel was moved back. Angel was given time to calm herself andthen she was injected with the first of a series of two shots to sedate her.

Once sedated, Angel received her first physical exam in years. Almost immediately, a strangelump was found on her abdomen. What I had always thought of as a mass of subcutaneous fathanging from Angel's belly region (like the deposits some older cats develop) in actuality turnedout to be her bladder. At some point in time, her bladder had come through the abdominal wall,and was left hanging just under the skin. This meant there was no muscular pressure to exert onit, therefore she was not able to fully express her bladder - she could void the little "on the top,"but she was constantly walking around with a full bladder. This explained her difficulty andstraining when she would squat for several seconds. X-rays were taken and they confirmed thatit was indeed her bladder, and preparations were made to take her into surgery. It was at thistime that things took a turn for the worse. The monitor on Angel began to beep, and she stoppedbreathing. For reasons I will never understand, this was the beginning of the end. Dr. Harpertried his best for nearly half an hour to revive her - epinephrine shots were injected to stimulateher heart, he massaged her, he tried to pump the air back and life back into her, all to no avail.

Lisa and I took Angel home. I carried her out and drove back to the Park with her on my lap theentire way. Holding her close I ran into the fox enclosure for the boys to see her one last time. Both were apprehensive - whether because they knew, or were cautious because of my strangebehavior, I would like to think the former. Basil approached first, cautious, flighty, but curious. He sniffed Angel first here, then there, then all over. Corey remained at a distance, seekingrefuge behind the board under the gate separating the two halves of the enclosure. Realizing thathe would not approach while I was there, I laid Angel down, arranged as best I could and steppedaway. With more caution and trepidation than Basil, Corey finally approached. Sniffing the airand ground around her first, before finally getting the courage to take that next step, Coreyappeared to grow extremely subdued and confused. At last he sniffed Angel, snuffled around herfur, first at her tail, then her belly, finally around her face and ears. Basil returned to investigatemore closely. After what seemed all too brief of an encounter, the boys left. Lisa, Elisabeth andI returned to Angel and began to clean her up - smoothing her fur, removing burrs and stray tuftsof hair. She had just begun to shed, long after the wolves and Wild Bill finished and were in fullsleek summer wear. Tufts of fur were hanging off her, leaving her in an unkempt manner -surely unbecoming of such a dignified and graceful animal. Basil approached a few more times. We humans left several times to give Corey and Basil another chance to say goodbye. At last nomore could be done. I picked her up and carried her out one last time.

Somehow, when I firstbegan working with Angel, I knew that I would only be able to pet her at the end. The scenario Ihad worked up in my head was that simply one day I would find her curled up in her favoritebox. When the "opportunity " came around to possibly have a chance to pet her and still haveher around, I will admit, I was more than a little excited. All I can say is that it was not supposedend this way, and I am truly sorry.

I know in my heart of hearts that Angel received nothing but the best of what I could offer. Starting her life on a fur farm, up for sale in a pet store, rescued by the law, placed with a lovingrehabilitator, paired off with a male fox (Renke) only to be widowed shortly thereafter, inundatedby a streak of white lightening by the name of Basil "The Bubba Fox" Fawlty, moved to a tworoom condo with all the amenities, bells and whistles any aspiring fox could ask for - completewith running water, blessed with a baby - Corey, and occasionally living life on the lam -sometimes for several days at a time - Angel had a full life. Not only did she simply survive allof her adventures, she thrived because of them. She ran, ate, slept, hunted, hid, mated, rearedyoung and hopefully loved - if only we all could be so lucky.
 
               Amanda Shaad